


bruised like a peach

by straddling_the_atmosphere



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:38:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straddling_the_atmosphere/pseuds/straddling_the_atmosphere
Summary: The first time Silver doesn’t notice until later, when the adrenaline has left him feeling shaky on his feet, and he’s curled up in a bed in the brothel, rubbing his sore throat. He winces when the ropes bite at his skin, and he lets out a slow breath. His hips still ache from when Flint shoved him against the rocks, and if he closes his eyes he can see the venomous green of his eyes, the glint of white teeth as he snarled, teeth close to his neck.Or: 6 times Flint left Silver bruised, and 1 time Silver bruised Flint





	bruised like a peach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drcloyd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drcloyd/gifts).



> The prompt was   
> \+ fic  
> \+ hurt/comfort  
> \+ misunderstandings  
> \+ angst!!!!  
> \+ angst with a fluff chaser
> 
> i...think i technically got all of those? i had a whole different idea i was going to do and then ended up scraping because the past few months have been...really hard and writing has been really hard and im sorry whoever prompted this. but i hope you like what i ended up doing! have a wonderful holidays to everyone!

_ 1\. The Wrecks _

The first time Silver doesn’t notice until later, when the adrenaline has left him feeling shaky on his feet, and he’s curled up in a bed in the brothel, rubbing his sore throat. He winces when the ropes bite at his skin, and he lets out a slow breath. His hips still ache from when Flint shoved him against the rocks, and if he closes his eyes he can see the venomous green of his eyes, the glint of white teeth as he snarled, teeth close to his neck.

His back throbs and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, eyes clenching shut, and then he lets it out, slow, forcing himself to relax. 

It’s only the first time, but he doesn’t think it’ll be the last.

_ 2\. Guthrie’s Office _

_ What a day I’ve missed,  _ Flint had said, and then he’d tilted his head slightly and Silver had scrambled to follow him, rubbing his raw and sore wrist. Flint reaches back and clamps his hand on that same wrist and Silver stifles a gasp, hands spasming in his grip. Flint pauses for a moment before he tightens his grip just a little, tugging him towards the ship. When he finally lets go, shoving Silver onto the deck, Silver moves around in a daze, his hand cradling the other, wrist throbbing, until someone snaps at him to go find Randall.

Later, in his hammock, he tries to sleep, but every time he shifts he can feel the phantom of Flint’s hand, on his wrist, a knife to his throat. He sinks his teeth into his wrist to keep quiet, right over the bruise, and his blood rushes through his body hot and alive, the heel of his other hand pressing down. Letting out a shuddering breath through his nose, he slides that hand into his pants, and helplessly wonders if he’ll even escape the captain alive.

_ 3\. The Warship _

_ I’m the only person within a hundred miles of here who doesn’t want to see you dead.  _

Silver stares at Flint, chest heaving, and he can feel Flint’s hand tighten on his collarbone, nails digging into his skin, a knife at his throat  _ again.  _ He doesn’t know what he expects--a thank you or just some fucking acknowledgment that he isn’t as stupid as Flint thinks he is, but whatever it is, it gets interrupted by heavy footsteps above them.

Later, Silver watches as Flint looks around, watchful, victorious, and he reaches up to touch his collarbone, already bruising and tender. He presses his tongue behind his teeth, hot under the collar, and knows that to get what he wants, it’s this man that he must tie his fate to. It’s for this man that he lets the crew beat him, bruise his body. For his heavy-lidded eyes and slow smirk when Silver gives him a bloody smile. For that man and the glittering gold in his future.

_ 4\. The Leg _

Silver remembers only snatches of what happens after he passes out from the pain. His throat aches, his body one giant bruise. His fingers twitch in someone’s grip and whoever is holding it snatches his hand away.

“Silver?” Someone says, hazy and faded, and Silver makes a weak noise in the back of his throat, struggling to open his eyes. Instead, blissful coolness as someone drapes a wet cloth over his forehead, water dripping down his cheeks. He lets himself be pulled under again, desperate to escape the pulsing pain that beats in time with his still-chugging heart.

He wakes fully in the night, a blanket tucked around him where he lays on the window-seat in Flint’s cabin. He can hear Flint snoring, soft and quiet, and he flexes his hand, gazing blankly out at the window. The skin on his hand protests softly, a much quieter hurt than the rest of his body, and when he glances down, in the light of the moon he can see a bruise in the shape of a single thumbprint on his palm, about the size of the Captain’s hand.

_ 5\. On the Cliffs _

“You’re killing me, Captain,” Silver pants, flicking his damp hair out of his eyes as they sit down to rest. 

“I think you’ve lived through worse things than me making you hold a sword,” Flint says wryly, handing him the water. 

Silver just groans, tipping his head back to pour water into his mouth. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and hands the flask back to Flint. “Every bruise on my body is because of you,” he says, wincing theatrically as he stretches his arms over his head, back cracking. He can feel Flint’s eyes on him and when he meets them, he tilts his head, taking in the strange expression on Flint’s face. Flint looks away, and Silver can swear the tip of his ears go red.

“You’ve had worse,” Flint says in the ensuing quiet. “Again?” 

Silver huffs, tucking that look to the back of his mind, and picks up his sword.

_ 6\. Madi _

Silver had no idea something could hurt worse than the amputation of his leg, but he feels like he can’t breathe, his throat clogged and thick with tears, Madi’s face the last time he saw her at the forefront of his mind. He clenches his hand into his hair, the urge to rip it out so strong he nearly does it, and then startles when he feels Flint grip his shoulder, hard and firm and  _ present.  _ Alive. Alive like Madi is not, alive and filled with the same rage he now feels, he now understands. A rage that keeps you going when you no longer want to.

Flint squeezes his shoulder, his thumb tucked against the dip of Silver’s collarbone, and Silver leans into it, feeling as if Flint’s hand on his body is the only thing keeping him together. That if Flint let go of him, he’d fall apart, a mere shadow of the pirate king he’d become. The fraud he’d always been, this time exposed. He closes his eyes tightly when he feels Flint’s body shift, his mouth pressing a kiss to the top of Silver’s head, a tenderness that makes him gasp, tears dripping slowly down his cheeks.

“Stay as long as you need,” Flint murmurs and Silver almost cries out when Flint lets go of him, almost begs him to come back. But he doesn’t--instead presses his own hand to where Flint had touched him, and silently begs for it to bruise. So his body has the memory of a touch from someone who cared.   


_ And 7. Reunited _

“Madi said that you died,” Flint says blankly, staring at the man who’d killed him and brought him back to life all at the same time, the man who’d left his heart a fragile and bruised thing, a thing Thomas had had to coax back to health.

Silver shakes out his filthy hair and grins, pushing inside the house. “I  _ knew  _ she was writing to you. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“What--wait! You can’t come in here.” Flint feels dazed, like the filthy pirate in front of him is simply a mirage, his own dreams and nightmares come to life.

Silver gives him a look. “Come now, Captain. I know you don’t want to cause a scene outside when you yell at me.”

“ _ Yell  _ at you,” Flint hisses, suddenly bristling. “I should throw you out, you fucking Judas.”

He tips his filthy chin up, and Flint exhales, shaky, the desire to touch him still as strong as it ever was, knocking him blindsided. “I deserve that,” he says agreeably, then looks around. “Where’s the greatest love?” 

“Thomas is at work,” he says automatically and then glares. “Don’t talk about him.”

Silver takes a step forward, and Flint steps back, until he’s against the closed door of the modest cottage he and Thomas call home. 

“Are you going to yell at me?” Silver asks softly, reaching up to press on Flint’s chest, that big, broad hand spread wide over his heart where it thuds weakly inside of him. “Because I rather thought we could do something that we both have wanted for a long time instead.”

“What’s that?” Flint asks, his heart ratcheting up a notch, the ache inside him growing, his entire body just one big open wound for Silver to dig his nails in and hurt more. Even after all these years, the bruises inside him have never faded.

Silver’s teeth glint white against the black of his beard--then he leans forward and kisses him, pressing his whole body up against Flint’s, like two mismatched halves that have grown into a misshapen whole.

**Author's Note:**

> im @ tomasortega on tumblr


End file.
